


Can't Take My Eyes Off You

by chantipede



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Unrequited Love, im so sorry junyoung but i hurt the other two just as much ;;, like its so subtle that you might not even catch it and miss it as a plot device, pls dont mind my short chapter division
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21905650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chantipede/pseuds/chantipede
Summary: In which Yuchan has too much space in his heart and Byeongkwan has no words left to fill it.
Relationships: Kang Yuchan | Chan & Lee Junyoung | Jun, Kang Yuchan | Chan/Kim Byeongkwan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	1. You're just too good to be true

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Babbling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babbling/gifts).
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since i don’t really ship i’m here to fulfil all your rarepair needs. the byeongchan tag was vacant until babbling beat me too it rip

There’s nothing Yuchan adores more than a good game of soccer. He loves feeling the evening breeze card through winded hair, the sweat that runs off focussed brows, the adrenaline that fires through the entire soul and lives off the burn of the exercise, the heart of the field, and the rush of the game.

Yuchan loves soccer, and he can feel it all through his classmate from his position on the bleachers.

Lee Junyoung is nothing less of a prodigy, and the crowd cheers as the game centres easily around him. He has the will of a master and the eye of a hawk, not to mention his body, built through endless practice and the help of genetics.

Yuchan isn’t jealous though. With how he follows the effortless dash and practiced kick of the player scoring a goal for the nth time, _ enticed _ might be a better word for the pumping of his heart, and even the flutter in his stomach. He’s a moment too late to follow the crowd to their feet from the daze that entranced him, and overcome with lightness, he makes a decision of confidence.

He’s not sure if it’s the cheer of the audience, the buzzing in his ear, or the pounding in his heart that drowns out the words of his friend beside him. “Huh?”

The silent smile on Byeongkwan’s face makes Yuchan feel suddenly defensive.

“_What_?”

He laughs. “I just think you’re really getting into the game.”

Yuchan scoffs half-heartedly. “We’re the ones who came to watch. Am I not supposed to?”

Byeongkwan looks like he’s going to tell him _he’s_ the one that dragged them out here, and he didn’t expect any less, but he can’t deny that he’s enjoying the show himself. “You’re just- I don’t know? You’re all-“ he mocks a face, adding fluttering heart-eyes to his jumpy excitement.

Yuchan is about to land a series of hard jabs to Byeongkwan’s side when he’s interrupted by a long whistle, marking the conclusion of the game.

The players line up and the crowd starts to disperse, the two of them descending from the rearmost bench following the stairs down the centre. They’re about to cross paths with the star player packing his equipment when Byeongkwan grows sick of Yuchan’s wandering eyes.

“You should talk to him!”

“Talk to who?” 

He’s so lost in his head that he’s not even playing dumb, so Byeongkwan gives him a shove in the right direction. 

Literally.

Lee Junyoung is tall, and _ quick_, but not enough to save the fall of Yuchan’s glasses, which are crushed in the action. He’s met with Yuchan’s panicked eyes, behind of which swim curses about taking the bleachers at the top to compensate for Byeongkwan’s height but not Yuchan’s own vision. They don’t fail to catch Junyoung’s fluster though, and watch with both disbelief and embarrassment as the athlete helps him to his feet.

“Ah, your glasses! I’m so sorry. Be careful next time, uh…”

Junyoung is searching for a name, and seems to find one through the now-upright stance and established distance of the other.

“You’re Thirty-One!”

Yuchan doesn’t make sense of the unusual accusation about his age. “I’m… What?”

“Ah, what was it… Thirty-One… Kang? Kang-ssi, I played you some months back in high school, the semi-finals. You put up a real fight!”

Taken aback, Yuchan recalls the final defeat of his team in senior year. “You... you seemed to beat us so easily though. You remember me?”

Lee Junyoung’s genuine smile is so blindingly charming. “Of course! I could barely get past your defence. My friends—some of our team—we were so close to losing our streak. How could I forget?” He holds out the same hand that pulled Yuchan up.

Yuchan doesn’t remember it that way, but takes the hand and shines a smile.

“Call me Jun,” he offers, and the shake seems to course through Yuchan’s entire being in the most exciting way.

“Yu- um, I’m Chan.”

Junyoung is such a pleasure to meet, and maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but Yuchan’s feeling a little dizzy looking at him. “So Chan, why aren’t you on the team? Did you miss tryouts?” He laughs. “I know uni can be strict, but the rules are easily bent for a good player.” There’s a flash of mischief in his eyes.

Suddenly, Yuchan is shy of the expectant stare, as he shifts on the spot, aware of the other’s presence beside him. “Actually, I…” He knows exactly why he missed tryouts, as well as every practice after, and is called to make a decision on the spot.

He’s interrupted by the summoning of the soccer team from the middle of the field, and the words on the tip of his tongue are swallowed hard.

“I’m so sorry, they’re waiting for me.” The hand is dropped and Junyoung’s distance is so close but feels miles away. “Come to next practice, Thirty-One. Tomorrow at four!”

He nods at both Yuchan and Byeongkwan as he runs off. Feeling defeated, Yuchan lets out a held breath. Byeongkwan is a little offset too, and Yuchan doesn’t blame him.

“Come along now, Thirty-One,” he teases, earning a punch to the side, and they make their way to Yuchan’s dorm.


	2. To warm the lonely nights

Yuchan theorizes that Byeongkwan’s habit for sitting on tables comes from his desire to feel tall, and is too tired to tell him the effect is quite the opposite. Still, his roommate might get picky, so he makes an effort to set the kid straight.

“Tables are off-limits, hyung.”

Byeongkwan doesn’t flinch and continues to hog down his macaroni.

“Dude.” Yuchan hauls up a leg to kick at Byeongkwan’s ungrateful ass.

“When did you get so picky about sitting, Mr. Kang-Yu-can’t-even-share-a-couch?”

Byeongkwan’s ass puts up a real fight, and Yuchan is about to put down his dinner and take the situation into his own hands. “I’m serious. What if my roommate walks in?”

“Then you’ll make like Kang and put on an innocent face with puppy eyes, and then force me out like usual.”

“I don’t do that!”

“Kang Yuchan!” Byeongkwan raises his voice, and the younger automatically reverts into his scared five-year-old persona with a slight pout and doll eyes. “See?”

“And you’re exactly the same!”

Byeongkwan finally hops off, taking both their dishes to wash in the sink, mumbling something about ungrateful first-years, their granted residence, or their spoiled antics. “The difference between you and I is simple. I wouldn’t have denied it.”

Yuchan laughs and walks to his bed, feeling exhaustion start to overtake him. He hears the door close and feels the bed sink next to him.

“Do you have homework? Can I stay over?”

Yuchan doesn’t turn his head, tiredness melting into his smile. Junyoung’s laugh is replaying in his memory and he doesn’t know what to think. He wants to talk to Byeongkwan about it, and sighs. “Yes and yes. Can you help me?”

“I’ll do it for you,” Byeongkwan says and Yuchan looks over to see his own laptop placed on the other’s lap. He shoots Byeongkwan a confused look.

“I know you stayed up all night to study for your test.” He scrolls through Yuchan’s assignment. “Sehyoon told me. And you’re really… weird today.”

Yuchan slept next to Sehyoon at lunch to recharge before meeting Byeongkwan to watch the game, but didn’t expect the latter to catch anymore of his fatigue.

“I’m good now,” he promises. “I was fine during the game, and I-“

“Just sleep for now.” Byeongkwan smiles at his words. “Take a nap or something. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Yuchan sits up to take the laptop that he should’ve passcode-locked with something less obvious than his birthday.

“Look, I’m awake! Just help me with the thesis, I’m terrible at starting.”

Byeongkwan is too fast for his grabby hands and sets aside the laptop to push him down. “Dude, your eyes are all googly, I thought you were going to fall into the macaroni.” He pulls a very broken pair of glasses out of his jean pocket. “You were so lost in Youngie’s eyes that you forgot about your glasses!”

Yuchan flushes. “Youngie?”

Byeongkwan rolls his eyes. “I’ve seen your notebooks Kang. You know, I actually thought you knew each other, but turns out you’re a lovesick twelve-year-old.”

Yuchan looks genuinely hurt.

“Okay, I’m sorry! But we study together all the time, you could’ve done half a better job than keeping your secrets scribbled in hearts where anyone can see.”

“He’s just my favourite player-“

“And you’re my favourite dongsaeng, so get some sleep or I’ll sit on you.”

Yuchan doesn’t doubt the threat, and retreats into the covers with a frown on his face. “Only because you’re doing me a favour.”

Satisfied, Byeongkwan re-opens the laptop. “This course was my shit. A reflection essay is a piece of cake.”

Yuchan sighs, already fading into his dreamscape, which is congested by a new laugh and charming smile. “Please show me before you submit it.”

Byeongkwan doesn’t plan on waking him up in time for that, and he’s already typing away, putting Yuchan to sleep with rhythmic taps of the keyboard.


	3. Trust in me when I say

He dreams, not of the unfamiliar smile, but of the old high school practice room, hearing the quick thump of a freestyle beat that he’s memorized like the back of his hand. He watches his year-older-senior phase into the rhythm in precise movements through the mirror, and he feels like there’s nothing he loves more than the thrill of dance, un-choreographed but calculated to match every beat. He loves how his body can blend into the music and make the room his own stage, his own canvas to feel every human emotion flow out into a language spoken in the diction of the music. 

He loves dance, and he can feel all the grace, the strength, the passion he’s ever longed for while dancing with Byeongkwan. He feels lifetimes pass like waves in the ocean, following one after the other in a trance that feels so long and repetitive that it’s short, and so easy, like it could go on endlessly to his heart’s content. The mirrors, the repetitive beat, and especially the company of the other are suddenly everything he’s ever known, like an extension of himself and a home to his existence.

His heart syncs, not with the music, but something in the room—something that he can only feel in his chest—and it’s like he’s never longed for anything more or anything less. He thinks the feeling will crash like waves, thumping on and on, right until the end of time. Overwhelmed by euphoric satisfaction, his eyes slowly open to the shadows of his bedroom, its luminescence long-retired into the night. He can make out Byeongkwan’s figure, warm and steady in front of him, too steady to be asleep.

“Yuchan, you’re awake?” The voice is careful.

“Kwan-hyung,” he mumbles, still descending from the remnants of his joyful dreams.

“Your essay is done. I submitted it,” he says, a bit shyly.

Yuchan hums, the realization having already sunken in at his awakening. “Okay. Thank you.” A yawn breaks through the last word, contrasting Byeongkwan’s obvious alertness. It’s silent for a moment. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I am,” Byeongkwan deflects, moving no other muscle than that of his speech.

There’s an ambience to their breathing, and Yuchan figures the elder wants them both to try and rest. He’s about to turn his position for comfort when Byeongkwan decides to continue.

“Yuchan,” he softens, “you should join the soccer team.”

Yuchan knew he would have decided to eventually, but right now he wants to change his mind forever.

“I know it overlaps with dance practice.” Yuchan can feel the other’s eyes land on his own through the darkness. “You love soccer. I’m not going to trap you in the practice room like you’re my only friend. I have Sehyoon… And now you have-“

“Goodnight Kwan.” He wants this to be the end of it. Just one more night is enough to feel like he doesn’t have a decision. If only his dreams didn’t have to be so persistent. If only Byeongkwan weren’t a friend that knew too much and cared.

“I miss going to your games.” Yuchan remembers scolding him for skipping his lectures to support the old team, only to watch them blow their advancement to the finals. The bio student went on about how it was the farthest he’d seen the team go in history, despite only having seen one more year of matches than the younger.

Yuchan dips his cheek into the pillow, hair spilling everywhere, tickling his ears and getting in his eyes. There’s a tear creeping down the side of his face ensued by his previous yawn, and he yearns to fall back into his peaceful dreamscape. He’s aware now of his arm resting on the other’s, likely a result of his messy sleep-state, and thinks of how Byeongkwan usually complains about his snoring.

His hand slips subconsciously into Byeongkwan’s, like a comfortable habit of curious fingers. His thoughts are loud but indecipherable, and his breath is held as if worried that they would pour out and make themselves known. He wants to tell Byeongkwan that right now he just wants to sleep in good company, but it’s not what he’s really thinking.

He  _ was _ going to tell Byeongkwan. It was a simple decision he made back on the bleachers, feeling the adrenaline of the game and his dreams worth partaking. It’s just a team, just like dance. It’s just a dream, easily reachable now, and just one aspect of his life.

It’s not like he would lose Byeongkwan. He’s right here, beside him, assuring him it’s where he’ll always end up.

“Tomorrow...” he starts, “I’ll talk to Jun.” The name rolls off his tongue unnaturally. He reaches out to pull the blanket higher up Byeongkwan’s side and feels warm fingers hook tightly with his. He wills himself to sleep enveloped by the chill of his thoughts, not knowing if he can keep the other’s grasp within his past the state of unconsciousness.


	4. And if it's quite alright

Mornings are made easier around Byeongkwan. The only obstacle they usually face is getting out of bed, but it’s made easier with Yuchan’s early crash the night before. His decision still stings, but it’s easier to wake up next to someone instead of feeling the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. He can be recharged instead of re-situated into reality, awake instead of dreadful over the day to come.

It’s easier to tread the campus with breakfast in his stomach, to go to class with his assignments done, and it’s even easier when Junyoung sits next to him to re-invite him to practice.

Lunch is easy with Junyoung. They have similar interests, personalities, and goofy natures that are easy to get along with. He seems enamoured by more than just Yuchan’s soccer abilities and high school stats, and Yuchan is sold by his excited pacing and handsome smiles. They share stories, spilled water, and laughing fits, and Yuchan feels his insecurities disappear with the meal.

His boost of confidence lends him a hand at proving his dearly missed skill, and he lands a spot on the team with an assuring hand on his shoulder. He’s brought to life on the field, being a part of the team and feeling every bone in his body doing what it was made for. The team’s budget and organization is so much better than high school, and he thrives in the enablement and admiration of new teammates and friends.

It’s almost effortless when Junyoung catches him the next week to earn a kiss on the cheek and a date over the weekend. He doesn’t miss the flush on Junyoung’s face when he lands back on his heels to admire it, nor could he ignore the texts from Byeongkwan offering accusing jokes and good luck.

He feels ecstatic with his world wrapped smoothly around soccer, school, and so much Junyoung. Food tastes better, music seems happier, and the sun feels warmer on his skin. He wants to give his everything into every moment, and that’s why Byeongkwan fusses through his closet on Saturday morning.

“Your style, Chan, I can’t. This closet’s so… ugly.”

The statement is harsh, even for Byeongkwan. “Hey! Maybe Jun likes my ugly!”

Byeongkwan’s face doesn’t spare him an ounce of belief.

“He complimented me yesterday.”

“What?” The mistrust is hurtful. “You were a walking highlighter in sandals.”

“They were Nike slip-ons,” he defends, “and yellow is just my favourite colour.”

“Okay but yellow jeans?”

Yuchan sulks, and Byeongkwan finishes fixing a hanger to face the bed where he sits.

“Alright fine, you’re free to wear whatever weird shit makes you happy. But if I send you on a date with Lee Junyoung dressed like a mouldy french-fry, no one is forgiving us.”

“Jun would…” Yuchan pouts.

Byeongkwan sighs, defeated by a canvas without any paint. “I should’ve brought you my clothes.”

At that, Yuchan chuckles. “Hyung I’m sorry, but would they even fit?”

Byeongkwan rolls his eyes. “You know I wear oversize.”

Deep in thought, he laments the fact that he’s never gifted clothes to Yuchan, and the younger flies over to make an outfit himself when Byeongkwan pops an idea.

“Wanna wear this?” Byeongkwan holds out the crewneck that once draped over his torso, now only covered by the t-shirt under. It’s an expected street-fashion look: black with striped sleeves, a zipper collar, and a design on the front that could’ve been self-painted. Byeongkwan has worn it in a few dance videos so Yuchan assumes it’s one of his favourites. “You can put it over the turtleneck you’re wearing, and whatever pants you like. Just not some... funky condiment colours.”

Trying not to overthink the offer, Yuchan takes the shirt and slips it over his own. It smells of both detergent and familiarity, and fits better on himself than the owner. He chooses camouflage cargos, and Byeongkwan is about to detest but he lends the kid some artistic freedom. It’s not completely awful, and as questionable as Yuchan’s style can be, it’s easy for things to look good on him.

“You look like a cute e-boy on the airport runway.” Byeongkwan’s tone makes any compliment sound easily insulting.

“That’s. Literally your style.”

“You can’t deny you like it.”

Yuchan can’t, but it feels unnatural on himself. Still, what he sees in the closet mirror is kind of refreshing, and he’s one step closer to-

“What time is it?” The moment made Yuchan forget what Byeongkwan was even here for.

“Shit, go get your bag.”

“I can fit everything in my pockets.”

“Sure. Okay. I’ll leave first so you can lock up?”

Yuchan frowns. “You’re not staying here?”

Byeongkwan was going to bus all the way home to overwork himself, amongst other things. He really likes homework these days, and it would be easier to do it on campus. “I… can.” It sounds like a question.

Yuchan pulls him into an unexpected hug. If it’s for gratefulness or good luck, he’s unsure. “I’ll leave the keys then.” He grabs his wallet and opens the door, and Byeongkwan only catches a glimpse of his shirt on the other. “There’s chicken in the fridge. You can use my laptop.”

At that, Byeongkwan is left alone to wait for his return.


	5. I wanna hold you so much

It’s half an hour past midnight when Yuchan switches on the light to find Byeongkwan asleep on the loveseat, wrapped completely in his only blanket, aside from a few brown strands peeking out from the top. He sighs at the thought of sleeping cold as he walks over to the table to check his laptop.

He finds that Byeongkwan used some time to upload a new video. It’s the choreography they started making two weeks ago, and the first from this year. Yuchan knows they had to alter it to fit one less person, and that they haven’t really been in a video together since Byeongkwan was in high school, _ over a year ago. _

He grins in awe at the elder’s improvement, gracing the centre more than anyone else. Especially for videos, Byeongkwan puts on the coolest look—_literally—_and he thinks their subscribers will wonder if Byeongkwan has any other shirts.

Shit.

At the realization, he lifts himself and quickly rings up Junyoung.

“Chan?”

“Ah Jun, sorry. Were you asleep?”

Junyoung chuckles into the phone. “You just left. I’m getting ready though.”

Yuchan paces the room nervously. “Yeah. Um, I think I left my shirt there.”

There’s a tense laugh and Yuchan flushes at the reason. After a few indecipherable noises of movement, Jun responds. “It’s safe, yeah, I got it.”

“Thank God…” He turns to Byeongkwan’s concealed figure, and could’ve sworn he saw it move.

“Is it that important? Do you want to come get it? Or I can bring it over.”

“No, no it’s fine. Just bring it next time. And don’t wear it.”

Yuchan hears a confused laugh, “I don’t think it would fit…”

“Okay good.”

“Good.” A smile curves into Junyoung’s words. “Is that all? Do you need a virtual tucking-in?”

Yuchan walks over to his sink where Byeongkwan’s toothbrush lies next to his. “No, I’m staying up a bit longer.” His reflection after today is unfamiliar, and he hums into the phone. “Goodnight Jun.”

“Night, Chan.”

He waits for Jun to hang up before he brushes his teeth. Looking out onto the empty bed, he ponders layering his clothes to make up for the cold, but it still feels incomplete. A few minutes and a set of fresh teeth later, he’s peeling his blanket from Byeongkwan to reveal a peaceful, soft face.

The loveseat is made for two, but not for laying on horizontally. Thus, Yuchan uses Byeongkwan’s size to negate his value as a total person and carefully slides in as to not disturb the other’s peace. The arms that fold around him, however, overcome all of his excuses.

“You’re awake!”

“You’re going to smother me.”

Ambitious, Yuchan kicks his legs to shift their position into something more comfortable, and Byeongkwan doesn’t counteract, instead, complaining about Yuchan’s huge shoulders overwhelming the couch. He grumbles into Byeongkwan’s chest as if to sulk his way into staying like this awhile, knowing sleep would be asking for too much.

They’ve cuddled before, but usually when there are other people around, like at parties and with big groups. Yuchan thinks it’s different—with friends instead of boyfriends—when you’re around others; making public displays of affection is like having your one friend all to yourself so you can feel less surrounded and even less lonely, versus being an over-intimate couple that would be better off staying at home. Right now it’s the same, and after a long, sociable day, he just wants Byeongkwan all to himself.

A voice muffles over his head. “You smell like shampoo.”

“Just showered.” It’s not a total lie. Yuchan huffs against Byeongkwan’s t-shirt, not wanting to think about it; just feels like drowning in the familiar closeness of Byeongkwan, like it will flood out all the restlessness hesitation in his eager heart.

He perceives a chin resting on his damp hair and arms trailing up his turtleneck, stopping at the collar.

“Where’s my shirt?”

Yuchan feels the blanket protecting his mistakes unsheath them and has no time to lament the loss of warmth as Byeongkwan climbs out with a sigh.

“Just stay there, Chan. I’ll take the bed.”

Yuchan whines, “Won’t you be cold?”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?”

Yuchan can’t deny the thought didn’t cross his mind, but-

“He lives in the dorms, right? Why didn’t you sleep there? It was already late.”

Yuchan hears the whine Junyoung let out the way he is right now, reaching from the bed and asking why he couldn’t stay. “Because you were here...”

Byeongkwan breathes out heavily, and Yuchan wonders how long the elder waited for him, or if he even fell asleep on the couch. Really, he didn’t know if Byeongkwan would stay. He wanted a friend waiting for him, for reassurance, if the date didn’t go well. Maybe he had been a little too selfish.

“Let’s just take the bed,” Byeongkwan says.

Yuchan is out of reasons to argue.


	6. There's nothing else to compare

Byeongkwan doesn’t stay much at Yuchan’s anymore, and it may be more than a coincidence that Yuchan doesn’t either. It takes effort to adjust to waking up in a larger bed after having followed Junyoung home each previous night, and more effort to force down the loss that comes with it all. It’s hard not to notice the diminishing time spent together, now mostly filled with joking texts and sudden favours, save for the few quiet nights shared in Yuchan’s bed.

It feels numb, because Junyoung is the best candidate for making him feel loved. He’s easily everything Yuchan could’ve dreamed of: bright but not too positive, deep but not too clingy, and he admires every part of Yuchan that he lets himself make known. He’s ready to bury Yuchan in every kind of affection whenever Yuchan feels like he’s not enough, like he can’t satisfy Junyoung, and even after everything Yuchan can’t help feeling like he just wants to go home, whatever that means.

He walks through the split of chairs, a hand cold in his and tongue bit between his teeth as he follows Junyoung to their assigned seats. The theater is frigid and dark, and Yuchan rests his head on his boyfriend's shoulder when they sit, stealing an arm like it will keep him from falling through the floor. He doesn’t deserve to be nervous for Byeongkwan, not with how all faults feel like his, but he’s absorbed in it anyway.

He thinks of how Byeongkwan went to see all of his games, even after graduating, and how he never had a chance to return the favour. The chance simply didn’t exist until now, with this being Byeongkwan’s first opportunity to compete, but he can’t shake how it feels different. Guilty even. It’s not like his presence in the practice room was ever necessary to make Byeongkwan dance better, but when the elder finally meets the centre of the stage, he can’t come close to erasing it.

With eyes too focused to find Yuchan’s, the performer catches the whole audience in the same way Yuchan experienced time and time again. His movements are powerful but precise, more than Yuchan could ever dream of, and he’s given no choice but to experience the music through each one. His heart pounds despite the speed of the beat, and he feels that obsessive emotion that he got so used to feeling, that he didn’t even realized he missed, without any chance to readjust. It hits him like a truck, how absorbed and exhilarated and inspired he is. He wants to be there, to experience the adrenaline and the pressure and the fire that lights the dancers eyes, covering him in sweat and vigor in all its glory.

He wants Byeongkwan. He wants to free himself from everything constraining his mind, his happiness and desire and lack thereof, until he has no purpose but to own the stage with no other necessary audience than the one currently on it.

By the end, he’s no longer on Junyoung, or in the theater, for that matter. He’s in the practice room, watching Byeongkwan finish his choreography through the mirrors, cheering his friend like he’s won every medal in history. He barely registers how Junyoung nudges him in his trance, or even how they announce Byeongkwan’s advancement to the next round, long after the solo performance. His body finds its way off his seat on its own and he chases the thought through the theater, desperate to tell Byeongkwan, to free his heart from his mind and all the energy that dances through it. He’s not sure what his heart conceives, but whatever it is, it leads him through the building with Junyoung somewhere behind him, surprising the dancers in the backstage room.

Byeongkwan turns his head away from where his hands adjust his stage outfit. “Yuchan?”

“Chan!” Junyoung closes the door behind him as peacefully as possible to blend into the potentially unwelcome setting.

“I didn’t know you came…” Byeongkwan nervously intakes the presence of the athlete standing six feet tall behind Yuchan. He can barely hear himself past the ringing in his ears, or see anything other than the two faces in front of him.

“What the hell? Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you didn’t tell me.” There’s a hurt in his voice that Yuchan can’t discern.

“You didn’t tell me either…” He learned of the competition through Sehyoon, but that doesn’t matter now.

Byeongkwan’s tiredness is still evident through the bangs sticking to his forehead and the shortness of breath between his words. He’s too overwhelmed when Junyoung introduces himself, deja vu lingering in the hand that he holds out.

“I’m Junyoung! Yuchan told me about you both dancing, but I had no idea it was about his friend from our first game. Guess I can’t judge a book by its cover, you’re amazing!”

He doesn’t shake it. “Sorry, I have to go...”

Yuchan doesn’t have time to catch Byeongkwan’s furious blush as he makes himself scarce with no more than a wave. The distance grows between himself and everything—his best friend, his boyfriend, the walls of the room and the world around it—and the weightlessness in his chest feels more like a burden. The Byeongkwan from the practice room seems so far away as Yuchan watches his hand close the door to another room, unable to reach for it, to apologize for whatever his heart can’t explain.


	7. But if you feel how I feel

The short encounter is the last Yuchan sees of Byeongkwan for a while. He can only go about his days like usual—class, Junyoung, soccer, studying, homework, Junyoung—and it feels endless. After a week he realizes that he’s doing it on purpose, like isolating himself from what he wants, not deserving love or attention and lying to himself by saying he has enough. He could never admit that Junyoung isn’t enough, but he could make an excuse to skip one lunch with him. He knows where Byeongkwan and Sehyoon will be, and sends them both a text in advance, reviving the group chat with a promise to show up.

They deserve an apology. By now, his boyfriend has completely taken over his free time, and he can only assume they miss him even more than he does. He needs to prove that he still cares, that they matter more than a relationship, and that he can’t just put them on the sidelines. He still wants to spend time, even if he doesn’t know how anymore. He’s desperate to, really.

He finds Sehyoon alone at their usual table, his expression as questionable as the empty seat next to him.

“Where is he?”

Sehyoon looks unhappy as he watches Yuchan pull out a chair, unusually disinterested in his lunch. “Avoiding you.”

The guilt in Yuchan’s stomach builds tenfold, and he’s too scared to give it a voice. “What did I do?”

Sehyoon rolls his eyes. “I don’t know, make him fall for you?”

“What?” Yuchan’s head is spinning in circles as Sehyoon gives him a look like ‘_Yeah, you messed up big time_ .’ He can barely make out the words, much less figure out their significance to the situation. _There’s no way. _ “I don’t understand.”

He’s about to argue, but Sehyoon doesn’t want to hear it. “What is there to understand? The fact that he helped you get with Junyoung, or that you like him back?”

Yuchan can’t play dumb now. He closes his mouth, gears turning again. Whatever apology or huge speech he had in mind won’t suit Sehyoon, not that he would even want to hear it. There’s no more room for stubbornness, and frustration won’t answer any of his questions. He won’t sulk here, not with Byeongkwan getting crushed by the second, and especially not with the look on Sehyoon’s face. He gets up from his chair. “Where-”

“He’s in the practice room.”

_ Okay _.

As quick as his feet can carry his anxious heart, he leaves his friend who is apparently less blind than he thought. Sehyoon had every right to make him look stupid, now that he thinks about it. It’s Byeongkwan he wants, and he almost trips over the thought, literally. He makes it to the practice room that he spent too few weeks in and opens the door to the blaring music.

In the middle is Byeongkwan, dancing almost too furiously to notice. They both stop in their tracks with the song continuing on, caught like a deer in headlights through the mirror. The gaze he meets contains no surprise nor preparation, like an unfamiliar version of his friend—his _ crush—_proving everything that he didn’t know he felt. But there’s nothing mutual in Byeongkwan’s eyes, painted cold at the confrontation. Both are breathless, both winded back like a rubber band about to snap, but Byeongkwan winds down, and moves over to turn off the sound. He goes to sit down, too exhausted by everything other than the choreography. As his eyes fall to the ground, Yuchan steps forward.

“Byeongkwan, I’m sorry, I-”

“No. No you’re not.”

He rises, seeming taller than a few seconds ago, or maybe it’s the weight of the room making Yuchan freeze in his spot.

“I don’t even care if you need to spend time with your boyfriend. I have other friends,”

“Kwan-”

“But to step all over me? I’ll do your assignments, I’ll lend you my shirts, stay over and cuddle and anything you want.”

Yuchan knows he didn’t explicitly ask for those things, but Byeongkwan continues.

“But the worst part is that I shouldn’t have to think about it. I’ll do _ all _ of it, _ gladly_. You’re my best friend. But you’re using me to fill all the spaces in your life, like you can’t be left alone for five seconds. You’re so scared of loneliness, of being unloved that you don’t even consider what it’s doing to me…”

Yuchan felt alone. It made Byeongkwan do _ everything _.

“I know, I know you. You can’t handle it. You like Junyoung and you still can’t satisfy it. But your heart is ripping itself apart, and you won’t even tell me! You keep coming to me but you won’t even tell me…”

Byeongkwan’s gaze on Yuchan stings tears into his eyes, making him wish it’s his first time noticing Byeongkwan try to keep it together.

“I tried not to get possessive, to let you get hurt like you’ll somehow learn your lesson… ” his voice shrinks, like he’s tired of hearing himself. “You’re too dependent on others and I’m too jealous-”

“You’re not.”

Each step Yuchan takes forward is like plates shifting below him, unsteadiness balancing him out.

“I knew it would be hard on you, but you took it like the huge pushover that you’re _ not_. Byeongkwan, I’ve been so unfair.”

Yuchan is close. As close as he always was and as close as Byeongkwan liked to keep him, but the distance always felt like it was too much.

“I never realized how much I needed you. So much more than I ever needed Junyoung.”

Byeongkwan doesn’t register the hand on his cheek or the nose brush his own, he just feels—feels the warmth on his mouth and the shiver down his spine and his own eyes close, like something so new and frightful and repeated in his mind that feels so right on his lips. That’s why it takes a second of getting lost in the pleasure to pull back, to step away, to try not to fall back into the glint in Yuchan’s eyes.

Byeongkwan stammers, “I can’t do this... You can’t… you…”

The joints in Yuchan’s body grow rigid as Byeongkwan backs away, eyes lingering for a moment until he steps out of the door without another word, and suddenly it’s like that dark hole in his memory, of that year he dreamed alone in the room of mirrors, shrouded by the unforgiving noises in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah the chapters didn't have much else to do with it than splitting the scenes, so I just posted all at once because it's almost done! and ! this fic was supposed to be a oneshot fluff with a few texts and somehow became.. not even close to the concept. I just wanted to make Yuchan think he has a crush on Junyoung but here we are. thanks for reading haha.


	8. There are no words left to speak

If there’s anything that Yuchan can’t handle, it’s being left alone. He could feel his sanity drip out like grains of sand in an hourglass as the night passes, thinking about who to talk to and saying nothing at all. It must be what Byeongkwan wants — for him to feel his own loneliness and learn how to fill it. The world becomes empty as his thoughts grow louder and louder, and its weight is too much to keep to himself, to keep away in the dark and see no end. The end was always Byeongkwan, and it was a light he could always reach for.

If there’s something Yuchan can’t admit, it’s being at fault —n ot for dating Junyoung or quitting dance or even ignoring a crush he really knew he had —but for for taking the easy route, for pushing away Byeongkwan, and especially for lying about it. He knew it was wrong, forced everyone away, and let their relationship of so many years crumble, all to suddenly speak up as if that would do anything, as if a kiss would solve everything.

He falls back onto his bed, a room apart from his phone and a world apart from his friend. He doesn’t get how people can shut themselves in to think but he’s doing it anyway, even if all his mind can accomplish is how much he hates it.

He hates how he feels like he has no right to sulk, how knowing he needs to do something makes him cave more, and he hates how it feels like Byeongkwan will walk into his apartment at anytime to comfort him.

It’s exactly what shouldn’t happen.

Whether he was asleep or not, he’s unsure, but his awareness is revived when he hears two knocks against his bedroom door.

“Chan?”

His mind swarms in a panic that he wants to drown in, so deeply until he can hear nothing else. But the voice persists.

“Chan, I’m coming in.”

Yuchan doesn’t peak out to see his boyfriend from where he’s tangled into the sheets, now aware of how his legs hang out, exposed.

“Your roommate let me in.” Junyoung decides awkwardly to take a seat on the bed, and Yuchan hears him put down a plastic bag. “You weren’t answering your phone, and… Hojung told me you weren’t in class…” He lets himself sound worried. “Is everything okay?”

At the lack of movement, he tries again,

“Have you eaten?”

Yuchan wants Junyoung to disappear as much as he wants him to stay. He wants his mind to keep blaring as much as he wants to hear Junyoung break through it.

“Chan, I don’t know what’s going on, so I’m going to need you to respond... You don’t have to tell me what happened.”

Stubbornly, Yuchan pushes down his words.

“I’m going to assume you’re awake by the lack of snoring.”

The hand on his leg couldn’t be laid more gently, but Yuchan flinches at it like he’s been burnt, so Junyoung withdraws.

“Okay, sorry. I won’t touch you.” Again, Yuchan hears plastic. “I made you lunch, or… your breakfast. If you want.” The bed shifts. “I can leave it here.”

“Jun...”

_ Don’t leave _ .

Slowly, Yuchan curls up his legs and sits up. “Jun…”

Junyoung’s soft doe-eyes meet his, and his hands reach out for the arm that Junyoung leans forward against.

He doesn’t say anything else, but Junyoung takes the physical gesture as a sign to stay.

Junyoung makes an effort to feed him until he’s doing it himself. He lets Junyoung take care of him in comfortable silence, enjoying his simple warmth and company, and it feels like the past month-and-a-half, how he can stay with Junyoung and fall asleep in his presence, but not without Junyoung pressing a kiss to his forehead.

It’s too easy — to relish in the touch, to lean into the hand on his hair, to soak in all the care and attention — and when another kiss presses instead to his mouth, he misses a distant sweet taste.

It was too easy to push Byeongkwan away . Too easy for how difficult it was to let him go.

Yuchan pulls away with noticeable hesitation, and sees Junyoung blush, looking like he’s about to apologize, so Yuchan interrupts him. “I should,” Yuchan swallows, “I should probably shower.”

With his head hanging low, Junyoung agrees, and Yuchan can only feel guilty for how he can’t stop thinking of Byeongkwan.

Junyoung is the first to move and walks out to the kitchen, probably to wash the container, to leave Yuchan to his task. He takes pajamas and a towel to the washroom and gets to it, avoiding the face of misery in the mirror, knowing it’ll just make him feel more sorry for himself. With the passage of time now more coherent, it’s easier to feel separate from the loneliness that still surrounds him. His mind is at war with its desires, and all he could do is soak self-pity until someone comes along to break the cycle. It shouldn’t be that way.

After too long, he shuts off the shower and dries his hair. The fog on the glass is as obscure as he wants it, and the whir of the fan, as simple. He seizes the moment to recall where he is, who is outside, what he wants, and exhales audibly. The Kang Yuchan in the mirror will have to clear up eventually. The fog doesn’t change who he is.

When he steps out, Junyoung’s glances up from where he’s seated at the desk, looking increasingly insecure from how he was minutes ago. Yuchan doesn’t know what to do with the shift in atmosphere; he still feels a shortage of words, and it doesn’t seem right to ask Junyoung to help him. Yuchan goes to sit on the bed against the headboard, as if there were anywhere else to go, and Junyoung exhales before deciding to move to sit in front of him.

Junyoung’s nervousness is obvious, and he looks like he’s deciding what to say before he can look at Yuchan again. The latter finds himself unable to move or adjust to what’s swimming through his own head, and he can only will himself to realize it too. Yuchan has to decide what he wants, even if speaking is the only thing he really ever had control over. He can make it right this time.

“Jun-”

“We should break up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly i think i wanna remove the chapter/separation when it's all done but we'll see


	9. Please let me know that it's real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> posting back-to-back so u dont hate me?

Only now that it’s coming out of Junyoung’s mouth does it feel real.

“You want that, right?”

Yuchan’s mouth feels dry. He looks at him, as present as he can be. “I’m… sorry.”

Junyoung’s breaths dig needles into his skin, paralyzing him. “No I am. I mean, I saw your phone, in the kitchen, but I,”

Yuchan bites his lip at what his friends might be saying,

“I knew before then…” Junyoung doesn’t know what to do with himself, and Yuchan much less. It’s not fair to seek comfort. It never was.

“I should’ve said something earlier,” Yuchan apologizes.

“No. I mean,  _ yes _ , but,” Junyoung starts to choke on his words, “I moved you too fast. I acted way too early because it felt like… like I could never be enough…” He’s shaking. “God, I’m so selfish. I just wanted  _ you _ , as if nothing else had to matter.”

With how Junyoung looks so small and insecure, Yuchan feels bad for breaking his confident character. He reaches out to take the shaking hand, and it’s warm with anxiety. He has to speak for himself, before anyone else gets hurt. He’s had to for a long time, but seeing it now… Junyoung doesn’t deserve this. “You deserve so much more. Someone who loves you, who doesn’t have to question that you’re their only one.”

The way that Junyoung looks at him, like he’s pleading, _‘but_ _it’s you I want,_’ breaks him the most.

“I don’t deserve you. Really, Jun. Like, I can’t even sort my own brain. I just panic and cling to people like they can solve everything for me, when I won’t even tell them what’s wrong in the first place.”

Junyoung squeezes his hand. “No, Yuchan,” he protests, “I know how that feels, like you can have all these expectations again. You were just lonely. You didn’t know what to do.” The adoration in his eyes is accompanied by pursed lips. “And it’s fine. Besides, you’re doing something now.”

Yuchan nods, attentive. He knows only what he feels, and that he doesn’t deserve the comfort. It scares him how much he doesn’t deserve Junyoung. “I’m sorry. I’m so late.”

“It’s okay. I’m just… not right for you. It’s better to at least realize it now.” He moves a little closer and Yuchan lets him. “It’s not like… Did you use me to get over him?”

“No.” Yuchan wishes that was the case. “I didn’t know I liked him. Until…” He trails off, thinking about how he started to ignore it.

“Yeah... you were just lonely,” Junyoung says. “I saw it, when we met backstage. I think it was obvious, that he was jealous. And then after that it kind of stuck.” He hated to realize the possibility that Yuchan liked Byeongkwan back, but with how Yuchan reacted, that was obvious too. “You.. you two could… could work… I mean, I don’t know but-”

“I still like you!” Yuchan claims. “You’re so much. Dating you was like- I still can’t dream of it.”

Junyoung laughs, “No, honestly I need to get over myself. I can’t always get what I want.” Junyoung slots their fingers carefully. “Your dream is out there, waiting for you. And I think you’ve been waiting for long enough too.”

Yuchan wants to cry at Junyoung’s sincerity. “I wish I could give you what you wanted.”

Junyoung huffs a smile that makes Yuchan feel a little lighter. “What if I wanted to still be your friend?”

Yuchan feels his face split into a grin. “Is that it?”

“Is it too much?”

“It’d be an honour to have Lee Junyoung as my friend.”

“Sick,” Junyoung chuckles, drawing back a little. “Okay, what if... what if I wanted one final kiss from Kang Yuchan?”

Yuchan’s eyebrows raise in concern. “Is that okay?”

“Only if it’s okay with you,” Junyoung says.

“You should think about it!”

“So should you!”

“Okay, but wouldn’t that make it harder? To get over each other?”

Junyoung ponders. “Yeah, it would…” He looks at Yuchan’s pouting lips, a little phased. “But I still want it.”

“No, you still want  _ me _ .”

“Okay yes,” Junyoung admits. “Of course I still want you. Look at you!” He says it like Yuchan is the biggest dumbass in the world. “But I want to feel it… that you’re okay. That I’ll be okay. One last time.”

Yuchan leans in to take it into consideration. “Okay… Only because you want.”

“That’s not how consent works!”

“I don’t know! We’re just bros now. I don’t usually kiss my bros…”

Junyoung laughs accusingly. “Usually?”

By now, Yuchan is blushing furiously, unable to erase the image of Byeongkwan’s face before he closed the gap. “I don’t…”

Too distracted by the closeness, he doesn't save a breath to finish the sentence. Cupping Junyoungs chin, he kisses him gently, with a slow brush of the lips. He feels the last of his worries and tension flood out, and it feels more like a thank you than a goodbye.

When they draw back, Junyoung leans fully on Yuchan’s hand, smiling. It’s bittersweet, but he’s glad that it’s their last. It might take some time, and they’ll need to set some boundaries, but he thinks that Junyoung will make a really good friend.

“I don’t want to miss you,” Junyoung says sadly.

“You won’t have to. I’ll still be here.”

Yuchan feels two fingers pinching his cheek and laughs, loosening up and falling back. Usually when Byeongkwan does this he gets angry. “True… But I should go home. To do work. And sleep.”

“Yes. Good idea,” Yuchan agrees, getting up. There’s still an hour left of daylight, but it’s better that they separate. They need time, honestly.

“Promise you’ll eat again though?”

“I will.”

Junyoung moves around to get his things before going to stand in the doorway of the dorm. “You should check your messages.”

He sees how Yuchan tenses up at that while following Junyoung out of his room.

“Will you be okay?”

Yuchan nods, moreso just assuring himself, and sighs when Junyoung opens up his arms. He welcomes himself into the overwhelming wingspan and hugs tightly.

“I’m proud of you, Chan.”

Yuchan hums, though feeling like he didn’t do anything yet. “Why does it feel like we’re closer now that we’re not dating?”

Junyoung leans back. “I don’t know… Sincerity? Vulnerability? You, actually crying in front of me?”

“I-I’m not…!” Yuchan flies his arms over his face. “Have you never seen me cry?”

“I’ve only known your name for two months, Thirty-One.”

Yuchan tugs his hands under damp sleeves, his teeth failing to bite back a smile. “Bye, then, Youngie.”

Junyoung can’t laugh off the blush that paints his face as he waves off, and Yuchan tries to cherish it while he shuts the door to bring his attention to the phone on the counter buzzing away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love junyoung love him.  
also this whole story was supposed to be short GOD im tired ;;


End file.
